


Til We Shall Part

by 1848pianist



Series: Miles to Go Before I Sleep [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Cafes, Chicago (City), Fluff, Lake Michigan, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-07
Updated: 2013-12-07
Packaged: 2018-01-03 22:15:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1073676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Jehan's last day with him, but Combeferre doesn't know how to spend it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Til We Shall Part

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JehanFerres](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JehanFerres/gifts).



> The Backstory Café, as with the other places mentioned in this series, is indeed real. I’ve probably taken a few liberties with the Amis’ use of the space, however.  
> And yes, I wrote yet another adorably clichéd fluff piece, which is all I seem to write for JehanFerre. (The angst is coming, though.)

The first thing Combeferre felt when he woke up was Jehan’s head against his chest. The second thing he felt was an unusual sense of panic. This was the result of two things. One: today was Jehan’s last full day with him before flying back to England. Two: he had class in less than three hours, and a paper which he had neglected in favor of spending time with Jehan.

He eased himself slowly from under Jehan, trying not to wake him up. After successfully extracting himself, he crept into the kitchen and set up his laptop, hoping that trying to finish the paper in two hours was not too unreasonable a goal. He was mostly finished, after all.

He had half a page left to go when Jehan peered into the kitchen, still looking distinctly rumpled from sleep.

“Working already?” he asked, smiling tiredly at Combeferre.

Combeferre jumped, startled from his concentration by Jehan’s sudden appearance in the doorway.

“Sorry,” he said, going to close the books on the table before realizing that he still needed them and ending up in a jumbled mess of papers. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just I had a paper to write, and I have class in an hour, and I know it’s your last day but I don’t know if I can afford to skip…”

He trailed off as Jehan came up and slipped his arms gently around his neck, returning the embrace gratefully.

“Don’t worry about it,” Jehan said softly.

“It’s your last day here,” Combeferre protested.

“So I’ll come with you to class,” Jehan suggested. “I’m a visitor. I can do that, right?”

Combeferre laughed, out of surprise more than humor. “I suppose you can. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Well, then.” Jehan kissed his cheek lightly. “Finish your paper,” he said, going to find them both breakfast.

An hour later, they were both walking across campus to the building where Combeferre’s morning lecture was held.

“It’ll probably be pretty boring,” Combeferre warned. “At least it’s only a two-hour class, and not, say, a four-hour lab.”

“I think I’ll survive,” Jehan replied. “It’s better than staying by myself all morning.”          “True,” Combeferre agreed, squeezing Jehan’s hand.

The lecture hall was half-filled when they arrived, the other students chatting or setting up laptops. A tall, blonde someone was looking at Combeferre and indicating the seat beside him.

“Morning, Enjolras,” Combeferre greeted him. Enjolras nodded in return, staring rather intensely at Jehan.

“You must be the one I’ve heard so much about,” he said, looking pointedly at Combeferre. Jehan and Combeferre both glanced at each other, blushing.

“Don’t start,” Combeferre said, sitting down in the seat beside Enjolras. Jehan joined him, glancing around the auditorium while the two caught up on events that had little meaning to him.

“The group’s meeting at the Backstory after class,” Enjolras was saying. “Want to come?” Combeferre looked over at Jehan, who shrugged in agreement, before replying.

“Sure.”

“What’s the Backstory?” Jehan asked just as the professor came in.

“One of Hyde Park’s many cafés,” Combeferre replied hurriedly. “Known for books on anarchy; also shows films on occasion and has organic coffee – obviously the ideal meeting place.” On the other side of him, Enjolras snorted in what sounded like amusement.

“Sounds good,” Jehan agreed.

The professor began lecturing on something to do with politics – it was very in-depth and obscure, and Jehan was less interested in the class than in Combeferre’s handwriting as he took notes. Enjolras seemed particularly riveted by the subject, often glancing over at Combeferre with a look that both of them seemed to understand. Jehan was entirely lost, but didn’t quite mind it. It was still better than being alone in Combeferre’s apartment.

When the lecture was, at last, over, Jehan followed the other two out among the crowd of other students.  Jehan and Combeferre trailed behind Enjolras the few blocks to the café rather than keeping up with his long strides.

The café was full to bursting when they arrived, packed with other students ordering lunch or eagerly debating what sounded like everything from medieval literature to space exploration. There did indeed seem to be a large discussion of anarchy in session.

Courfeyrac, sitting at a collection of tables which had been pushed together haphazardly, jumped up to greet them.

“We meet again!” he cried happily, dragging the three into the mix. Jehan was rapidly introduced to a succession of people whose names were familiar from Combeferre’s mentions. He managed to put at least a couple of the names with the faces around the surrounding tables.

Courfeyrac had produced a camera from somewhere in his backpack and had begun filming the tumultuous proceedings.

“What is this, _Rent_?” one of the students asked in amusement. “Hello, _Mark_.”

“I am a film student,” Courfeyrac replied in all seriousness. “I film. And of now, I am filming student life. Say hello to the camera, Jehan.”

“Hello,” Jehan said.

Courfeyrac grinned, turning the camera back to the other students. “Okay, Enjolras. Talk to me.”

Enjolras rolled his eyes but was smiling slightly as he launched into an explanation of the group’s objectives for the month. Everyone at their collection of tables more or less stopped arguing to listen, including the _Rent_ student who had been playing a very loud round of slapjack in the corner with another student. Grantaire and Eponine, Jehan believed.

When Enjolras had finished, the meeting quickly broke down back into loud conversation. Combeferre glanced at Jehan, and by unspoken agreement they said goodbye to the group and began to walk back to the apartment.

“Well, they certainly liked you,” Combeferre said.

“Apparently so,” Jehan replied. “The feeling is mutual.”

Combeferre smiled at that. “Back to the apartment, then?”

“If you want.”

“It’s up to you. It’s your last day, after all.” Combeferre tried and failed to state the fact lightly. “I don’t want to waste it.”

“It won’t be,” Jehan reassured him, squeezing his hand gently.

“I wish we had more time,” Combeferre said.

“I know.”

They continued on, wandering back to Combeferre’s apartment without intending to go in. Combeferre’s books and Jehan’s suitcase would remind them too much of the time they had already spent and how little they had left.

“I’ll come back,” Jehan promised.

“I know, but just feels like you’re leaving for good,” Combeferre replied. “And not knowing when makes it worse.”

“Maybe you’ll be able to come to England someday,” Jehan continued. “Or I’ll come to university here.”

Combeferre smiled. “You’re welcome to share my apartment if you do.”

“I may have to hold you to that,” Jehan laughed.

“Please do.”

 

In an effort to lighten both of their moods, Jehan insisted that Combeferre take him to the best pizza place in Chicago, which turned out to be quite near the apartment. Jehan had never had Chicago-style pizza, and protested laughingly that someone had clearly read the recipe backwards. Combeferre, however, still seemed uncharacteristically quiet.

“What are you thinking about, love?” Jehan asked.

“Tomorrow,” Combeferre admitted. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Jehan said. Then, struck by an idea, he added, “Let me see your pen.”

“My pen?” Combeferre asked. “What for?”

“You’ll see.” Combeferre handed him one, and Jehan grabbed one of the napkins from the table. ‘I love you’ he wrote, adding some doodles for good measure, and underneath he wrote ‘and I’ll be back.’

He slid across the table and watched as Combeferre glanced up at him, blushing slightly.

“Thank you,” he said. Jehan smiled, glad to see Combeferre do so in return.

“Come on,” Combeferre said when they had finished eating. “I want to take you somewhere.”

“Where are we going?” Jehan asked, but to no avail. Combeferre led him without explanation, past the café and the bookstore they had been to yesterday and to the subway station.

“We’re going to the city?” Jehan pressed.

“Sort of,” Combeferre answered, grinning.

The subway was cramped with people, making it easy for Jehan to take advantage of the situation and poke Combeferre in the ribs.

“Tell me,” he demanded.

“Not yet,” Combeferre laughed, in between dodging Jehan – he was extremely ticklish and Jehan knew it. “It’s a surprise.”

“Fine,” Jehan ceded, giving Combeferre one final poke and making him laugh in Jehan’s ear.

After making a switch to one of the city buses – which Combeferre paid for before Jehan could protest – Combeferre finally turned to Jehan.

“Our stop,” he announced.

“The beach?” Jehan asked.

“Lake Michigan,” Combeferre replied.

The sand was already filled with people, mostly families and tourists, it seemed, but it was not unpleasantly crowded.

“Isn’t it a bit cold for the lake?” Jehan asked.

“Aren’t you from England?” Combeferre teased in return.

At an impulse, they ran down to the water, dodging other beach-goers and sliding on the loose sand. As the ground leveled out Combeferre grabbed Jehan’s waist and spun him around, easily lifting the smaller man off his feet.

“Put me down!” Jehan shrieked happily, to the delight of a nearby group of college students. “I will dunk you in the lake, I swear!”

“Just try it,” Combeferre laughed, kissing the end of Jehan’s nose before setting him back on his feet. Jehan compromised by splashing Combeferre, resulting in a brief and completely undignified water fight.

“I’m freezing,” Jehan said as they headed back up to the beach. It was beginning to get dark, and between the breeze and his soaked clothes it was indeed cold. They didn’t call it the Windy City for nothing, he thought.

“Come here, then,” Combeferre said, lying down on the still sun-warmed sand. Jehan joined him, folding himself into Combeferre’s arms.

“Good choice,” he said.         

“Hmm?”

“Of a place to go,” Jehan continued. “It’s wonderful.”

Combeferre smiled. “I’m glad you like it.”

They found dinner from the passing vendors, settling in with the others on the beach as bonfires were lit along the shoreline.

“We should probably go soon,” Combeferre said, thinking of navigating public transportation at night.

“We should,” Jehan agreed, “but not yet.”

“Not yet,” Combeferre repeated, leaning over to kiss Jehan and watch the sun go down.


End file.
